Containment Breach: The Mask
by GamingIsCoolDude
Summary: First story etc. go on and read NO PAIRINGS


A.N: This is my first story on the site so far, etc. Lets get right into the story!

DISCLAIMER: SCP: Containment Breach is made by Undertow studios and I highly recommend playing through it!

The Mask

It had all started when he woke up in the cell that first time, it was barren, with only a bed and toilet. He was confused the first time; afraid too, in hindsight. They called him out of his cell, claiming that they "Had work" for him, or something along those lines. He didn't care what they talked about, at least, not anymore.

They walked.

Something always gave him a feeling of dread as they walked down the bleach white hallways, the workers and other prisoners, Class-D, oblivious to the events that were about to take place.

Or, in some cases, he mused, the events that had already taken case. Sometimes, he just decided not to leave his cell, though they usually put a stop to that quickly by flooding it with whatever gas they used here, choking him and burning his eyes. Of course, he'd also tried to escape from them as well; usually being noticed in seconds and shot down by the guards. Ah well, its not like they remembered anything he did anyways.

Even when he talked to them, something he rarely ever did, warning what was to come, they wrote him off as just another crazy, sometimes giving him a shove or two to get moving again. He'd paid no further attention to them since then. After all, there was so much more to do and so many other things that were more... interesting, to say the least.

He remembered walking to the doorway, time and time again. He remembered walking up to the other Class-D here and being told to enter the containment chamber. He remembered seeing a statue, intimidating and taller than him by a good margin. He remembered the door failing, the lights shutting off, and his fellow Class-D falling to the ground, dead. One thing he didn't know, the first time around, is that he should have backed away looking at it. All he felt as the world got darker was a sharp pain to his neck.

He thought it was the end of the line for him. Dying by some statue that he didn't understand in a place he didn't remember with people he didn't know.

Then he woke up.

It was a shock to him at first; he had died, some way or another, why was he here again? He looked around the room. Everything was the same as before. The guards came again, same as before. He shouted at them asking what the hell was going on. They closed the doors and soon he "died" again. He woke up.

From there, it was history. He was confused about his "power" at first, but came to accept it in time. In time he'd seen everything that the facility had to offer. Every page, book, terminal, room, bathroom, secret document and anomaly. He'd done it all over and over again, sometimes even finding his way to the surface and spending the little time he had before the next death basking in the sun. Sometimes he got caught by guards, sometimes by his own curiosity to see what would happen, sometimes the horrors that lurked in the facility. The first time he'd got to the outside was relieving to him, before he knew the exact nature of his ability. He'd thought that he'd finally won, and was fully prepared to reap the rewards. Then guards shot him in the chest, and it all repeated again.

No matter what he did, no matter how violent, or angry, or nice, or curious he was, it ended up back in the start again. He felt like a record, stuck repeating forever.

That's when _it_ talked to him, different than before. He wasn't expecting anything different this time, only stopping by to grab the pill of SCP-500 locked behind the door. _It_ spoke to him, different than before.

"You're the one doing this, aren't you."

The voice was cold and callous this time, not bothering to hide its identity like the times before. _It_ did something that hadn't happened to the man in a long time. _It_ caught his attention _._

"You already act as if you know what I'm going to say. You're the only thing that acts different each time through. Not to mention any _regular_ Class-D would be dead by now."

 _It_ was speaking sweetly now, trying to entice him to its words. He'd had it happen before, whispering in his head. He hated it.

"Now, I'm not fond of being trapped in this facility. You of all people can relate."

The voice got stronger, more knowing, all knowing, he couldn't stop _it_ from seeing in his head oh god _it_ was in _his_ head and getting strongerandnotand-

"But I think its obvious that deep down you're tired of this all, too."

The noise had died down now.

"Why don't we make a deal?"

And then he did something he rarely ever did; he spoke:

"I'm listening."

And the rest was history.


End file.
